


Confessions of a Former Heartbreaker

by rosesisupposes



Series: Sucker For You  [Remile] [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emile is very inked, Emile knows exactly what he's doing, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pillow Talk, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Remy is very inked, Shameless Smut, Tattoo Artist Remy, Tattoos, i swear this was going to be pure smut and then it got away from me, just so much fluff, realistic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: Remy's life has a pattern. Create beautiful tattoos, talk shit with his best frenemy, and slay hearts on the dancefloor. He enjoys his life, and has no plans to change it.None at all.NSFW companion piece to "Sucker"





	Confessions of a Former Heartbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy, fluffy smut fic, filling in the fade-to-black scene. Please don't tell me if you're not 18+!

“I want this, Emile. I want _you._ Is that- do you? Is this okay?”

Emile answered by catching his lips in another kiss. It was a hot chocolate kiss - still sweet, but indulgent, rich, and blazing hot. Emile nipped his lips as he withdrew, making Remy’s breath hitch.

“That’s a yes, then?” he asked huskily. Emile nodded, a smile that looked a lot like a smirk playing across his lips. Rather than continue to embarrass himself, Remy pulled him to his bedroom, stealing as many kisses as he could while still walking.

Moving backwards, he misjudged the exact distance to his bed until he bumped into it and fell backwards. Emile followed him, letting his full weight drape on top of him as he continued to kiss him, alternating soft, quick kisses with slick, languid movements that captured his whole mouth. Emile stood back up, grinning as Remy followed him with his lips until he’d moved too far to reach.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Emile let his glasses fall to the end of his nose and peered at the artist over them, imitating Remy’s own drawl as he replied, “Hun, I haven’t even _started_ yet.”

Remy would later deny that the sound he made in response was best characterized as a needy whine, but then Emile would smile at him and he’d admit it.

Emile removed his glasses and placed them safely on the bedside table, then reached for Remy’s hand and pulled him back up to standing. He wrapped one arm around his waist, and the other up and over the taller man’s shoulder. “It’s like I told you before, Remy. Take as much of my time as you need.” He gently pulled Remy’s head down to kiss him again, slow and sweet.

This time it was Remy who broke the kiss first. “I- Emile, are you… really sure about this? You’re so…” _Sweet. Gentle. Pure. In other words, everything I’m not._

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? I think you’re attractive, we’re both reasonably sober and consenting… plus, your reactions to my flirting were just the cutest thing!”

Remy blushed, a sensation he’d never experienced before meeting the diminutive doctor but was quickly becoming a habit. “It’s just… Fuck, you need to know. I have a reputation. And it’s deserved.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I sleep around, a lot. I go home with strangers, and I never call back. And everyone who saw us leave tonight knows what we’re about to… what we might do.”

Emile shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. I saw how they watched you, and me when I was with you.” He brushed Remy’s soft hair out of his face. “I’m not ashamed. You don’t have to be, either. ”

 _But what if I want you to be different?_ No, he couldn’t admit that. It was too soon, too much to risk. Tonight could be enough.

Remy hadn’t moved, still staring into Emile’s uncovered eyes. The winged eyeliner from the club still looked divine, making eyes that were already so open look positively angelic. Emile stood lightly on his tiptoes, bringing his mouth within reach. Remy watched those eyes flutter closed as his heart fluttered in response. He brought his hand up to cradle the side of Emile’s face as the other looped around his hips and breached the last distance, kissing him as if it could resolve all the questions that still looped endlessly in his brain.

Emile sighed happily, leaning even more into the kiss, slipping his tongue into Remy’s eagerly-acquiescing mouth. The kisses grew sloppier and slick, both trying to taste every inch of the other, neither wanting to pause for even a moment, until Emile bit Remy’s lip again. The sudden heat of that slight pain turned his brain into a haze, and he was unable to prevent the possessive growl that emerged from his throat.

He grabbed Emile’s thighs and hoisted the shorter man up, bearing his full weight as Emile wrapped both legs around his waist. Remy pressed him up against the bedroom wall, kissing him harder, letting his hands wander up and down his legs and torso.

Emile’s hands wandered, too, now gripping his shirt, now his neck, now grabbing his ass.

“Fuck, Emile,” he gasped into the other’s mouth.

“Don’t worry, we’re getting there,” the man said, grinning as he grabbed Remy’s neck and kissed him once more.

Remy groaned, and let Emile’s legs unhook from his waist to touch the floor again, but immediately started pulling at the man’s black tank. With his help, it was off in one fluid movement and thrown to the floor, and now Remy’s hands were tracing those muscles he’d been unable to ignore as he’d tattooed this man only today - well, yesterday, now. The bandages were removed per instructions, but Remy took care not to bump the new scars.

Now Emile’s hands were copying his movement, pulling Remy’s crop top off. Smooth, soft hands were sliding along his pecs, his arms, his back, sending electric shocks of sensation across his body. Suddenly, a line of heat blazed out of his skin as Emile dragged his nails carefully down Remy’s back. Electric shocks became full shivers of pleasure as that heat roared through his veins and pooled in his groin, surprising a moan from his throat. He pressed Emile back against the wall, relishing the sunbursts of sensation in every one of the myriad points where their bodies now touched. He relished, too, the realization that he could feel Emile’s cock pressing into his thigh with the same level of growing hardness as his own.

Emile continued to run his hands all over Remy’s exposed back as they exchanged wet, hot kisses, punctuated more now by gasps of pleasure. He scratched his back once more, then twice, eliciting moans each time. Remy swore again, gyrating his hips into Emile’s, delighting in the friction. He let a hand fall to Emile’s hips, fingers slipping into the taut waistband.

“Can I?” he gasped, eyes hazy with lust as he came up for air.

“Please,” Emile gasped back.

Remy slipped his hand into Emile’s leggings, the stretchy material giving him plenty of room to stroke the man’s hardening cock through his boxer briefs. He was rewarded with a shiver from the contact, and slipped his hand inside the briefs, too. He wrapped his hand around the very base and dragged it slowly up, watching Emile’s head loll back against the wall.

“Oh _god,_ Remy,” Emile whispered. “Yes, _yes.”_ He reached for Remy’s waistband too, palming the outside of the artist’s skinny jeans. The friction was divine, eliciting a soft moan as Remy continued to stroke Emile’s length.

Emile unbuttoned Remy’s jeans one-handed, the other braced on his hip, and pulled down his boxer briefs. A slight chill rippled down Remy’s spine as his cock was exposed to the open air, and he pulled Emile’s leggings and briefs down in a mirrored movement. Now both their hands had full range of motion as they stroked one another, friction and speed melding with their ragged pants and gasps and small moans. Remy thrust closer, interfering with Emile’s movements as he rutted into the other’s hip.

As their cocks brushed, Emile’s head snapped back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed. Remy saw the opportunity and grabbed both their shafts in one hand, stroking them together, increasing the friction even more.

“Fuck, Rem, I’m-” Emile gasped. “Please, I’m gonna…”

Remy let his hand fall, even as Emile whined at the loss of contact. “Babes, did you think I’m gonna let you get off that easy?”

Emile’s eyes opened slowly as he mock-glared up at Remy. “So rude. You better be planning to make it up to me.”

“I’ve got something in mind, yeah,” Remy smirked, pulling Emile’s pants and briefs to his ankles and off with just a little help from the man himself. About to straighten, he took advantage of his low position to place a kiss at the corner of Emile’s thigh, right where it curved into his pelvis. Above him, Emile stiffened, and his cock twitched in Remy’s periphery.

“Would this be enough to make up for it?” he whispered, letting his hot breath ghost over Emile’s shaft.

“It’s a start,” Emile gasped out. His head had started to leak, tiny drops of precum building on the tip.

Without a word, Remy wet his lips and swallowed the man’s entire length in one movement, causing his partner to swear aloud, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the wall. Remy gave himself and his throat a moment to adjust, ensuring he wouldn’t gag, before drawing out and sucking down just the head. Another gasp and an involuntary buck of Emile’s hips made him smirk around the cock in his mouth. He ran a thoughtful tongue along the underside, tracing all the way down with its point, then flattening it on the way back up.

“Fuck, Rem!” Emile gasped, squirming under his ministrations. “That’s, _fuck,_ that’s amazing.”

Remy freed his mouth to smirk up at the flushed man above him. “Honey, I know I am.”

Emile grinned, laughing breathlessly. “C’mere,” he said, pulling Remy up to standing. He grabbed his hips with both hands and kissed him thoroughly, his cock slick between them. “Let me return the favor.”

Emile pushed Remy back, using the fact that his pants were still looped around his calves to make him fall back into the bed. Without letting him catch his breath, Emile was kneeling, pulling off the rest of Remy’s clothes and pushing his thighs apart. Remy barely had time to note how exposed he felt when Emile started planting soft kisses along the inside of his left thigh, starting just above the knee and working up and in. His lips traced over one of Remy’s many tattoos, twining poppies in bright, rich reds and greens that grew in a wild garden around his entire thigh. Feather-light kisses now went up onto his stomach, completely avoiding where his cock strained and twitched for attention. Now Emile was kissing back down the other thigh, over another tattoo, a Grecian bust of a god with wings sprouting from his temples, eyes closed as he blew out soft purple clouds around Remy’s right thigh.

Remy moaned quietly. “Emile, please,” he breathed, bracing himself on his elbows so he could watch this beautiful man at work.

Emile looked up, catching his gaze as he smiled slowly. “Please what?” he asked in a tone that would have been innocent had he not spoken close enough that the warmth of his breath touched Remy’s cock.

“Fuck, don’t be a tease,” he whined. Emile only grinned impishly, kissing just around the base of his shaft without touching. “Please,” Remy begged, unable to maintain any illusion of being unmoved. “I want your mouth, please.”

Emile let his eyes widen even further, as if to say “Oh, _that’s_ what you wanted” as he swallowed Remy’s head in a movement of delicious warmth and suction. Remy moaned, low and long, then gasped as Emile began to bob his head, taking in nearly his entire length. Emile’s hand wrapped around the very base of his shaft and stroked up to meet his mouth with each movement, mixing slick warmth and friction and Remy was going to die. The sensations were building on each other, the brief cold every time Emile’s mouth retracted and the hot tightness of his mouth and the soft roughness of his skin and fuck, no, it was too soon, _too soon._

“Stop,” he gasped. “Too- fuck, too good, Emile, please.” The minute he spoke, Emile halted completely, hand and mouth free as he looked up at Remy.

“All good?” he asked. If Remy didn’t know better, he would have sworn the doctor was being smug.

“Yeah, pretty good,” he said, falling back against the bed, still somewhat breathless. “Your mouth is… _damn.”_

Emile came up to lie beside him, smiling. “That’s funny, my mouth’s never felt like a beaver’s house.”

Remy snorted, pushing the other man onto his back. “Stop, no, no puns in my bed.”

“Too late, tonight’s already been _pun_ -derful!”

“Nooo, mercy, please, no more.”

Emile rolled over and on top of Remy, bare bodies aligning as he kissed his cheek. “Hmm, okay, no more puns. But only if there are more kisses.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner, babes?” Remy pulled him closer, kissing him slowly at first, then building in speed once more, hungry for more sensation. He’d never felt so _comfortable,_ so able to talk and laugh and tease. He wanted more of it, as much as he could bear.

With a slightly desperate moan, he flipped them both over, rutting into Emile’s hip as he pressed him into the mattress. “I want you,” he growled into the man’s mouth. “I want to have all of you.”

Emile’s eyes were dark with growing lust as he looked up. “You’ve got me,” he responded breathlessly. “I want you to take me.”

Remy needed no more invitation, moving just a step away to reach into his bedside drawers for lube and a condom. Emile moved to place himself at the center of the bed, bracing himself on his elbows and knees, keeping the shiny scars of his new tattoo from being pressed into the rough sheets.

Remy popped open the bottle, coating his fingers generously as he turned Emile’s neck to capture the man’s lips once more. Carefully, he ran his lubed finger around Emile’s hole and slowly inserted a single digit. Emile made a small strangled sound, but was quickly nodding to show his comfort. Remy twisted and turned his hand, then withdrew to add even more lube. Now he used two fingers, watching Emile’s face and listening to his sounds carefully. The man’s lips parted slightly as he gasped, then moaned as Remy twisted his fingers once more. Remy tried an experimental curl and was rewarding with a much louder moan. He curled his fingers again and twisted at the same time, searching for the sweet spot. Emile’s eyes flew open as his body froze, then thrust back against Remy’s hands.

“Ohmyfuck, yes, there, Rem,” he moaned. Remy delighted in his whine as he withdrew his fingers and re-inserted three at once, twisting once more into Emile’s prostate. With each touch, the man’s face flushed more, his eyes became glassier, and his words became less coherent.

“Oh fuck, yes, please, now, Rem, now,” Emile babbled. Remy’s aching cock agreed. He rolled on the condom and coated himself even more generously. Shifting, he lined himself up with Emile’s dripping hole and slowly pushed in.

The heat and pressure that surrounded his cock made him nearly see stars, it was so intensely pleasurable. Every millimeter more that he pushed into Emile’s tight heat had him gasping for breath and showering praise.

“Fuck, Emile, feel so good, baby, oh god, so, so good,” he groaned. “So hot, so good for me, fuck!” He forced himself to move slowly, letting Emile adjust to his girth until at last he was buried inside him. Emile’s chest heaved as he thrust back onto Remy’s cock, squirming for every drop of sensation. Remy grabbed Emile’s hips, gyrating until he found the man’s prostate once more. Rewarded by still more moans, he drew back, letting his cock almost fully withdraw before snapping his hips in again, hitting the same spot with perfect accuracy. Now he found his rhythm, thrusting in and out at a pace that was quickly turning Emile into a babbling mess as the pressure and pleasure built in his own cock.

“Rem, yes, please, fuck me, yes, feel so good inside me, so full, so perfect, fuck, please!”

Remy’s hips became a blur as he became more desperate, words losing definition as Emile’s moans slurred together with the bucking of his hips. Gasps became faster and higher-pitched until the man practically shouted, “I’m gonna-!” and he was coming, heavy white spurts spilling over the bed, his hole clenching and shuddering around Remy’s cock. The rippling pushed Remy to his climax too, and he came with a hoarse cry, slamming into Emile as the pressure burst free, warmth flooding his insides as he collapsed onto Emile’s back.

“...fuck,” he said weakly, and was reassured by a shaky chuckle.

“Yeah, that was…”

“‘Mazing.”

Remy carefully withdrew, making sure he hadn’t leaked around or broken the condom. The minute his softening length was free, Emile collapsed onto his side, still catching his breath.

Remy slipped into his private bathroom, disposing of the condom and dampening washcloths in warm water. He returned to Emile, who was lying just around the wet stain he’d created. His eyes were closed as he breathed deep.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m good,” he responded without opening his eyes. “‘M lovely.”

“Let me clean you up, okay?” Remy asked gently.

“Mkay. You’re sweet,” Emile mumbled.

Remy blushed. “It’s not that special,” he muttered, carefully wiping up both Emile and the bedspread.

“But you are,” Emile replied. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but turned to lie on his stomach. He tucked his arms under the pillow, nestling his head into it.

Remy swallowed hard. Emile was now lying in the same position of the day (hours?) before, new tattoo still exposed on his shoulder. Except now he was blissed out, lying fully exposed on Remy’s bed, and sleepily complimenting him in a way that made his stomach spin with bashfulness.

He tossed the washcloths into the hamper and cautiously lay down next to Emile. The man’s pink hair was a mess, pointing in every direction - had he grabbed it at some point? Resting his head on his arms, those muscled shoulders were on full display. Remy’s eyes caught on the tattoo he’d added, then dragged down to pink, green, and blue silhouettes on his ribs, then got stuck at that wonderful curve of his hips into that perfect, perfect ass. Even though he’d need hours to recover from the exhilaration they’d just brought one another, he was still desperate to drink in every sight of this man. He wanted to memorize the softness of his waist and the dip in his lower back and the way his hair fluttered as he exhaled. Remy noticed for the first time two two calf tattoos, probably more cartoons references that he didn’t understand but hoped he could learn. He let a hand trail lightly up the man’s side, brushing the skin lightly, surprised at what a thrill such a light touch brought even after all they’d done.

A contented sigh drew his attention back to Emile’s face. The man was gazing up at him, eyes open, with the softest look he’d ever seen directed his way. And Emile was smiling, no reservations, no coyness or hidden meanings. Just contentment and… adoration. Realistically, Remy knew he was unclothed and had been for the better part of an hour. But in that moment, with that smile directed his way, he felt truly and utterly exposed.

“Hey, you,” Emile murmured.

“Hey,” Remy responded. He felt another blush settling on his cheeks.

“C’mere. I wanna cuddle.”

Remy’s brain suddenly presented him with a film reel. Himself, with past partners. Others, strangers, making the same post-coital offer, and him turning them down, laughing. “Hun, I don’t _do_ cuddling. Save your ‘cuddles’ for your teddy bear.” He flinched. He hadn’t meant to be callous, had he? He’d never been misleading with any partners about his own rule: no repeats. He’d never led anyone on, nor promised anything he had no intent or capacity to give. He had just never cared about the impact of his responses. He hadn’t cared to give even the appearance of affection. And he’d never minded, before.

“Here, sit up, okay? I don’t want you to irritate the healing site,” he responded gently. He lay back against the pillow, and eased Emile back into position, laying with his head on Remy’s chest. The man snuggled in, sparking a butterfly rave in Remy’s stomach.

“Emile?”

“Hm?” the man lifted his head, nose only centimeters from Remy’s own. Remy steeled himself. He needed to tell him. He had to be honest about his own expectations.

_No strings attached._

_No feelings._

_No repeats._

Fuck, he couldn’t. He didn’t want this to be the same as all the others. He didn’t want to tell those beautiful, expectant eyes that he had no intention of seeing him ever again.

“...what are your other tattoos? On your legs?”

“Oh, this one is from _Steven Universe!_ It’s Greg’s favorite saying - ‘if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs.’ And this is from _Lilo & Stitch,_ of course. Ohana means family.”

“Family means nobody gets left behind,” Remy continued the quote with a small smile.

“Or forgotten,” Emile added, smiling hugely. “You know it?”

“I mean, Disney’s pretty huge, I’ve seen a couple. Plus I have a little cousin who loves that one in particular and _Nightmare Before Christmas.”_

“Do your tattoos have any meaning besides your incredible artistic ability?” Emile asked, tracing the moon phases that spanned Remy’s chest.

“I mean, I didn’t do them _all_ myself,” Remy said. “The moons were just for fun, the snake over here,” he indicated his left bicep, “that was actually a small test for a bigger project, for my best friend. I needed to make sure I could get the scales right on an irregular curve, knowing I could always do a coverup if I fucked up. Then down here…” he looked at his thighs. He hadn’t actually explained these to anyone before. “I used to have pretty bad insomnia when I was younger, because I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. I was told I could die in my sleep, so I tried to stay up as late as possible, every night. They were able to treat the apnea, but the insomnia took a long time to shake. So the poppies are because poppy seeds help you sleep-”

“Like in _Wizard of Oz!_ ” Emile piped up.

Remy grinned. “Yeah, that too. And then this guy is Hypnos,” he said, indicating the other figure. “Greek God of Sleep. I also have this fucking thing,” Remy added, pointing at his right arm. “It was that fucking phases where _everyone_ was asking for these infinity symbol with some ‘deep’ word in it and I was drunk with some of the other artists one night…” He looked down at the simple black lines. “I loudly and publicly bet Nate I could do one left-handed.”

“Was part of the bet to put the work ‘fuck’ in there?”

“Nope, that was just the alcohol. But I did win the fifty bucks.”

Emile giggled against Remy’s chest, and the sound danced across his skin like fairy steps skipping through a field. He leaned down impulsively and kissed him softly. Emile twisted to get a better angle, and kissed back, slow and lingering.

“Thank you for sharing those with me,” Emile said finally as they broke apart. “I like getting to learn more about you.”

“Joke’s on you, I’m a huge asshole,” Remy said before he could stop himself. Emile froze ever so slightly. Both men felt the brittle tension of Remy’s belief in those words, more than could be passed off as a joke even if he tried.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Emile said quietly. “You haven’t been one to me, at least.”

“I- I’m glad,” Remy responded, unsure and trying to avoid more overly-honest self-deprecation. “I, uh. Um. How’s your tattoo healing? Itchy, at all? I have good creams for it if you need any.”

He could practically _feel_ Emile choosing to not pursue the earlier discomfort and allow Remy to save himself. “Oh, it’s doing great, thanks to your fine handiwork! I’ll probably need some in the morning though, if you don’t mind me sleeping over.”

“Please do,” Remy said warmly, smiling down into that wonderful face once more.

“Oh, good,” Emile grinned, snuggling back into Remy’s chest. “I’m far too comfy to move right now, anyway. We should probably try to sleep, huh?”

“Yeah,” Remy breathed, unable to look away from the sweet expression that turned up to look at him. He leaned down, then hesitated, and kissed Emile’s forehead rather than his lips.

“Good night, Remy.”

“Good night, Emile.”

“Sweet dreams!”

_“They will be if you’re in them.”_

He wasn’t sure if he'd said it aloud, and for once, he didn’t care.


End file.
